


Telly Time

by St_Salieri



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Fluff, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-08
Updated: 2006-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-25 07:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/St_Salieri/pseuds/St_Salieri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy and Spike argue over the remote.  Takes place post-series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Telly Time

It was gone. Buffy had searched everywhere -- the kitchen, under the bed, even in the bathroom -- but it had simply vanished. She gave a whimper of frustration. How had she managed to displace something so precious? There was only one possible culprit.

"Spike!" she called, stomping into the living room. "Have you seen the..." she broke off and scowled at the object he held in his hand. "...remote?"

Spike lifted the small object innocently. "I'm sorry, did you want this?"

Buffy grabbed for the remote, but he snatched it away and waved it tauntingly. "I told you I was going to watch some tv!" she said. "Have you seen the amount of stuff I've got saved on TiVo?"

He shrugged. "Serves you right for not watching it all earlier. It's my turn now."

Buffy seethed. "Well, sweetie," she said in a saccharine voice, "that's because I've been a little busy. You remember that nest of Grachlar demons? The one that took me all week to finish cleaning out? I guess you're new to the whole hero thing, because sometimes it cuts into your tv watching."

"Not for me," Spike said with an easy smile. "I've got my priorities straight. And if I recall, you didn't want my help with that nest. Something about showing the newest batch of Slayers the ropes."

"Whatever. Either way, it's my turn. Stop hogging it."

"You could make it worth my while," Spike suggested with a leer, then frowned as Buffy took advantage of his distraction and grabbed the remote. "Hey!"

"You snooze, you lose," she said briskly, flipping channels.

"Well, I get veto power," he muttered sulkily, then brightened. "I'll go for _Nip/Tuck_. That show is bloody brilliant."

"Not a chance. I see enough blood at my job, thank you very much. Ooh! I missed the last few episodes of _America's Next Top Model_." Buffy swallowed a grin at Spike's horrified look. "That's a no, then?"

" _Veronica Mars_?"

Buffy stared at him. "You watch that? Since when?"

Spike shrugged. "I think one of the actors is really a demon. Plus, it's fun deciding who I would eat first. And the bird reminds me of you, all blond and spunky."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. I so don't see it. And that's a big no. Hey, how was this week's _Desperate Housewives_?" She smiled at Spike's flinch. "I know you watch it, so no use denying it."

He took on a look of wounded pride. "Yeah, so I watch it. It's better than _Passions_ these days, I'll have you know. And for your information, it was a rerun. What about _Alias_?"

"I don't know," she groaned. "The show's not the same since Michael Vartan left."

Spike snorted. "Yeah, it got better. Less dead weight. Now, that Jennifer Garner is a bit of all right." He shifted defensively at Buffy's glare. "What? There's nothing quite so good as a girl who can hold her own in a fight. Better than that useless wanker Vaughn, at any rate. I don't trust him. He reminds me of Angel."

She stared at him. "You must have noticed how those fights are staged all wrong. And I cannot believe how petty you are. I like Vaughn, and he's _nothing_ like Angel."

"Yeah, you're right. Except for the part where he's all tall and dark and broody as hell. Nothing at all alike."

"You're hopeless," Buffy muttered. She continued to flip channels idly, snatching the remote away when Spike tried to grab it out of her hand again. "Oh, perfect!" She turned up the volume and grinned triumphantly. " _Project Runway_ marathon. I will hear no arguments."

Spike rolled his eyes. "You've seen all these. If you're going to steal the tv, at least watch something new."

"I don't care," Buffy said firmly, settling more comfortably into the couch and kicking her legs across Spike's lap. "I love this episode. I think Chloe wins this challenge."

"It was a fluke," Spike complained. "Santino's clearly the better designer."

"Oh, please. He's a complete ass! And he does the same dress over and over. A dress that makes his models look ten pounds heavier, by the way. You'd never catch me in something like that."

Spike pinched her toes. "Can't remember the last time you wore a dress anyway."

Buffy eyed him dangerously. "Is that a complaint? Oh, let me guess. Sydney Bristow wears lots of short little skirts while she's fighting."

"Not as a rule, no. And since when did this become about me? You're the one who just so happens to like the leading men who bear a suspicious resemblance to a certain ex," Spike sulked.

"Okay, that's it." Buffy struggled to her feet. "What is your problem? Can we please just watch tv without it turning into some big fight?"

"Well, I would if you'd put on a decent program!" Spike rose to his feet in turn, and Buffy's eyebrows went up.

"This is a perfectly good show! It's a wonderful show! And...oh my god. Did you just flash some fang at me, mister? You'd better put that face back where it belongs."

Buffy struggled to keep her voice stern. Spike was stalking towards her with a low, subsonic growl, the one that made her stomach clench and her bones liquify. She let herself be backed against the wall, her breath coming in short pants.

It was positively obscene how easily he still able to turn her on.

"What can I say, baby," he leered, his game face still intact. "All this talk of violence and short skirts, and a Slayer with her feet up on my lap? You can't blame me for wanting to change the game a bit."

He leaned in and gave a long lick to her neck, starting at the base and ending with a short nip to her ear. She moaned in surrender, tossing the remote across the room. She heard the crack as it hit the far wall, and then let Spike drag her down to the floor.

Neither of them thought about tv for the next hour.

 

***********

Dawn used the spare key to let herself into an apartment that was eerily quiet. Wait, not competely silent. She could hear the muted hum of the television, and then a soft giggle.

Great.

If she had any sense of self-preservation, she would walk out right now and call Buffy from the safety of the outdoors. Giggles meant badness, or at least a serious case of TMI. No matter how old she got, there were some things she was just _not_ meant to see.

"Buffy?" she called cautiously. "You, um, presentable? Are we still doing dinner tonight?"

"Hey, Dawnie!" she heard from the other room. "Come on in."

The coast was clear, it seemed. Dawn walked into the living room and rolled her eyes at the pair on the couch. It didn't take too much imagination to guess what they'd recently been up to. Spike's jeans were only precariously fastened -- the waistband appeared to have been partially torn -- and Buffy's shirt was completely misbuttoned. Plus, Buffy was looking disgustingly doe-eyed and dreamy, and Spike was sporting the smuggest grin imaginable. Yuck.

The two of them were cuddled up on the sofa in a big lump, legs tangled together. Buffy was absent-mindedly rubbing Spike's stomach, and they were watching....

"Guys, why didn't you tell me there was a _Laguna Beach_ marathon on?" Dawn dropped her purse on the floor and slung herself into the spare armchair. "Which episode is this?"

"It's the one with the...well, you know, when Kristin...." Buffy broke off and shook her head ruefully. "Actually, I kinda have no idea. We haven't really been paying attention."

"I personally couldn't care less." Spike interjected, although Dawn noticed that he never took his eyes from the screen.

"Uh huh," she said dryly. "I can see that. So why don't you change the channel if you're so bored?"

"Too comfy," Buffy said, snuggling deeper into the curve of Spike's arm. He snorted.

"Well, that, and the fact that Buffy slayed the remote." He gestured vaguely at the base of one of the walls, and Dawn spotted on the floor a twisted tangle of wire and plastic that had once been the tv remote. She noticed that one of the batteries seemed to have embedded itself in the drywall.

"You know what?" she said firmly. "I don't want to know."

"Probably for the best," Spike agreed. Buffy rolled her eyes and smacked him on the chest.

"So," she said, struggling to sit up and away from Spike's clutching hands. "Dinner? Where do you want to go? There's that cute Thai place a few blocks over."

"Maybe you should, um..." Dawn coughed and gestured at Buffy's shirt. She blushed and started to rebutton it, then gave up and fell back against Spike's chest with a thump. Dawn grinned, taking pity on her. "Or maybe takeout?"

Buffy beamed and reached for the phone. "You are officially the best sister ever."

Dawn shrugged. "Ulterior motives. I want to see the rest of the marathon." Spike gave her a nod of approval behind Buffy's back, and Dawn smothered another grin. All was right with the world.

 

 


End file.
